What's It All About Alfie?

The terrible searing heat of summer. No real good reason to go out and suffer when going to the mail box costs a quart of vital fluid. But Sponge Bob is back. Six months ago he got a blood cot in his leg and has not been able to ride, not at all. He will go out if I go out so who am I to sit on my ass and pout about the weather? I am bringing him back with the torment method. It has always worked well for me. The strong pick on the weak until something snaps and the weak all of a sudden find super human strength and self respect. I’ll torment Sponge Bob until he grabs my ankles and shakes the change out of my pockets to go buy a case of Shiner Kolsch.

Everyone was out today. The heat index was 107 and it was windy but I saw all sorts of people. Sponge Bob was out of course, Kelly was out, he has two little girls and a life. The girls were out, the idiots were out and by golly every one was having fun. I was looking for Sponge Bob and chasing mailboxes, pedestrians and anything that vaguely resembled a bike in my fuzzy vision. The bi focals stay at home and I just trust in my ability to distinguish between harmful and non harmful shapes.

Cocktail hour with the wife and cats. Just an inkling of a breeze, Broken Halo IPA, homemade Guacamole and chips. Nearly asleep and listening for the weather and the phone rings. Crank call or wrong number? It’s James. That would be a crank call. James is a spectacular rider, strong young and still a puppy. He’s heading off to do a team time trial at the state championships. His bike wasn’t shifting right. We did some on the phone wrench work and everything is swell. James exasperates me sometimes but if I can’t remember being just like him then damn, I’m a sorry OLD cuss.